


Finn Of The Yard

by DementedPixie



Series: Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [27]
Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: Family Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie
Summary: Bodie enlists his Uncle to help with a casePLEASE DO NOT RE-POST THIS STORY ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM.
Relationships: William Bodie & Ray Doyle
Series: Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264832
Kudos: 10





	Finn Of The Yard

**Author's Note:**

> My name is Demented Pixie and I’m a Pros fan, but that hasn’t always been my name. If you knew me as In Love With Both and you’re a friend, then you’ll already know why I left the fandom some years back. But, hey, a girl can change her mind, and I have therefore decided to re-share my Professionals fanfiction on this amazing Archive – no changes, no improvements, no alterations. I’ll be posting them just as they were written. No comments, no trolls, and no betas. Just me and my stories. I’m sharing them so that they can take their place in the archive, but I’m also sharing them for the Pros generation, for those future generations yet to discover Bodie and Doyle, and for Sandra, who has never ceased waving pompoms for all Pros fanfiction writers.  
> The following story was written by me in 2014.

Finn of The Yard  
By  
ILWB

“But why us?” Doyle asked, exasperated, turning his eyes skyward in annoyance. 

“If those photos reach the wrong hands it will be very embarrassing for us all,” said Cowley, leaning across the desk to enforce his point. He took off his glasses and pointed them at Doyle. “Are you going to be the one to tell the Cabinet that an Arab sheik successfully blackmailed our PM?”

Doyle shrugged in reply.

“No,” continued Cowley. “Exactly.”

Finishing his appraisal of the contents of the Top Secret folder Bodie relaxed back in his seat, tossing the file over to Doyle who caught it neatly in one hand. 

“I’ve never heard of a Lord Trelawny Hollingbury,” said Bodie.

“No,” said Cowley, “you won’t have. He changed his name three years ago by Deed Poll.”

“So he’s not a real Lord?” Bodie threw a sideways grin at his partner who quickly returned it. They both shared a dislike of pretentious people and to change your name simply to sound like landed gentry seemed like the very height of pretention. 

“Correct, although he does have the fortune of one,” confirmed Cowley.

Doyle tutted, still determined to express his disgust at the whole thing. 

Bodie ran his thumb along his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Sir,” he said, quietly. “The file said his yacht is moored at Rochester?”

“Aye.”

Bodie cleared his throat nervously, unsure of how much to disclose. He could be opening a huge can of worms here. Finally he took a deep breath.” I have an Uncle who lives at the marina at Rochester,” he admitted. Doyle sat up and stared straight at him, for once stuck for words. Bodie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looked straight at his boss and did his best to ignore Doyle as he continued. “We might be able to base the surveillance from there, it would look less suspicious.” 

“He’s security cleared?” asked Cowley, as curious as Doyle but determined not to show it. 

“Yes sir, he’s a retired DI. Until a few years ago he was at the Yard.”

Still, Doyle was speechless. 

“So he’s not been cleared by CI5, then? I’ll check him out as a formality but yes, I think that could be a good starting point.” Cowley shuffled the papers on his desk and pressed the button on his intercom. “Betty, send for 6.2 please.” He released the button before she could even acknowledge him. “What’s his name?”

“Detective Inspector Finney, sir, but everyone knows him as Finn.”

“Right.” Cowley picked up his phone receiver and started dialling out. He raised his eyebrows and looked over his glasses at Bodie and Doyle. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Bodie stood up quickly and grabbed Doyle by the arm, pulling him out of his chair and all but dragging him out of the office. “Running all the way, sir,” he said, pulling the door closed behind them with a firm click. 

Once outside he directed Doyle down the corridor with a firm hand to the small of his back. “Yes, I know!” he said, pushing Doyle through the door that led to the stairs, “I’ll tell you everything once we’re on our way, I promise. Let’s just get to the car, shall we?”

Still Doyle hadn’t spoken. 

Bodie was beginning to think some kind of miracle had occurred. 

*******

The wheels of the Capri squealed as Bodie steered it out of the car park, starting to work his way out of London. Still, Doyle hadn’t said a word, but as soon as they joined the main road out of the City and the traffic flow eased, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You said you didn’t have any family.”

“Did I?” Bodie was obviously going to make him work for his information. 

“Well I’ve never seen any of them.”

“Give me another hour and you soon will.”

The questions were coming thick and fast now. “But you left home at fourteen?”

There was a pause as Bodie navigated a major junction. “I left school at fourteen,” corrected Bodie. “Not home. I thought I knew it all, you know how it is. Anyway, things didn’t work out, so I got sent to stay with me Mam’s brother in London. I think they thought he’d have a good influence on me.”

“And he was a Detective Inspector?”

“Not back then, no, but he was a copper. An old fashioned bobby, well respected, all that kind of thing.”

“What happened?”

Bodie gave Doyle a sideways glance. “I didn’t see the point of it, joined the Merchant Navy, and the rest you already know.”

Doyle processed the information, realising how much of the story Bodie had left out. “Was he....I mean, did he look after you all right?” he found himself asking. Could this Uncle of Bodie’s have been responsible in some way for his nephew’s disdain for the Police Force?

“What? Yeah, he was okay. But I didn’t need him, didn’t need any of them. I just wanted to get on with the rest of my life, you know?”

Doyle found he could understand that part of the story very well, immediately drawing comparison with his own teenage years. “Couldn’t wait to grow up, eh?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Doyle nodded, deep in thought. 

They drove on in silence for a while. Bodie was very aware that he could almost hear Doyle’s brain ticking. 

“How long since you last saw him?” Doyle asked finally. 

“Erm, I suppose fifteen years.”

“And what happened then?”

“Hmmm?”

“The last time you saw him.”

“Oh. He arrested me.”

Doyle was so shocked his foot slipped off the dashboard. 

********

It wasn’t long before the silver Capri was winding its way through the ancient streets of Rochester. They crossed the bridge over the river and followed the signs to the marina, seeing how the river widened greatly to the East. They bumped over some crudely made speed humps and rumbled down a dirt track towards a small mobile home park, where a dozen large caravans stood. Bodie parked the Capri outside one of them, and turned off the engine. 

He turned and looked at his partner. “Okay?” he asked.

“I have,” confessed Doyle, “absolutely no idea what to expect.”

“From Finn?” Bodie shrugged. “The unexpected, I expect.”

They got out of the car, then Bodie knocked on the door of the caravan, which looked old but well maintained. 

The door, rather surprisingly, was opened by a shaggy German Shepherd who was pulling forcefully at a long rag tied to the door handle. 

“Funny that,” said Doyle, leaning back against the car with his arms crossed. “He doesn’t look a bit like you.”

Bodie ignored him and put one foot on the metal step, leaning in to shout. ‘Finn?”

The dog rushed out, wagging its tail ferociously as it sniffed around Bodie’s feet, then a man who Doyle assumed must be Finn appeared in the doorway. Tall, dark, and handsome, with a moustache any Sergeant Major would be proud of, Finn squinted a moment while he assessed his visitors. 

“Bodie?” he said, a frown creeping across his forehead. 

“Uncle.” Bodie put his hand out, hesitantly, relieved when it was immediately taken in a firm handshake. Finn’s quick eyes took in the Capri and Doyle who came straight over, also with his hand outstretched. 

“I’m Ray Doyle, Bodie’s partner,” he said, shaking hands, warmly. 

“Nice you meet you, Mr Doyle,” said Finn, surprise still on his face. “You’ll both come in?”

He led them into a cosy sitting room that was as warm as toast, the heat emanating from the coal fire a welcome relief from the biting cold outside. They settled themselves on the comfortable sofa while Finn organised cups of tea. Doyle looked around the room, wondering if any of the framed black and white photographs on the wall were of a teenage Bodie. Finn gave them both a mug and handed over the sugar bowl and Doyle sat back, slurping at the hot liquid, comparing the two men sat before him. The likeness wasn’t as strong as if they had been Father and son, but it was there. Same height, same build, similar eye shape. But while Finn looked at home, comfortable and relaxed, Bodie was on the edge of his seat. Doyle reached forward to put his cup on the floor, purposely nudging his partner as he did so to try to get him to relax a little. 

“So,” said Finn, settling back in his armchair. “What do you need from me? And don’t look so indignant, Bodie. I haven‘t seen you for years, if you’re here now you must need something. I understand that, I won’t hold it against you.”

Bodie cleared his throat. “We’d like to use your place to mount an operation. We need to stake out a yacht that’s moored up river. “

Finn nodded, taking it all in carefully. “As long as you don’t mind roughing it with sleeping bags or using the couch, that’s fine by me.”

Bodie looked down at his shoes. “Thanks,” he said, begrudgingly. 

Doyle tried to cover the tense feeling of embarrassment that was starting to fill the room. “Yes,” he said with a smile.” Thanks very much. It’s a great help and we’ll try to keep out of your way as much as possible.”

“No need to do that. Just treat it like home while you’re here.” 

Bodie looked up and found Finn looking at him with a kindly smile on his face but again Bodie couldn’t hold the look and stared back down at his shoes. 

Doyle stood up. “Let’s get our stuff. Bodie?”

“What? Oh yeah, right.” Bodie rose and together they went back out to the car. 

As soon as they were alone Doyle pulled hard at Bodie’s elbow. “What’s the matter with you?”

Bodie pulled himself free. “Just leave it, Doyle. It’s ancient history, okay?”

“Okay, but there’s no need to be rude to the guy. It’s getting embarrassing.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try, all right?”

They retrieved their sleeping bags from the car and took them back into the caravan, stowing them on the floor behind the sofa. Finn was putting down some food into the bowls lined up carefully in the hall; one dog, two cats, Doyle noticed. He nodded and smiled at their host then checked the cartridge in his gun before replacing it in his shoulder holster.

“Let’s go and check out the position of this yacht, eh?”

Bodie nodded and smiled, relief shining through. 

Together they walked along the riverside path, enjoying the winter sunshine and crisp fresh air. It appeared to be a very isolated stretch of river and they saw no-one else, which surprised them as it was a very pretty walk. The river was at its widest point, and a number of boats and yachts were moored in the middle. They paused, allowing Bodie to take out his folding binoculars, focussing in on the names of the vessels. 

“That’s it,” he said, passing the glasses sideways to Doyle.” The white one behind the blue one.”

Doyle re-focussed the controls and zoomed in. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s our target.”

“We go tonight?” asked Bodie, still looking out across the water.

“We go tonight,” confirmed Doyle. 

*******

The sun had long set when they arrived back at the caravan site. They had been via the town centre, bringing a gift for Finn that Doyle had insisted on. 

“Fish and chips,” he said, passing a newspaper covered bundle to their host. ”Hope you like salt and vinegar.”

“That’s very decent of you, young man,” said Finn. “Very decent.”

“We’ll put it on expenses,” said Doyle, chewing on a chip.

“And is it still just as hard to get them signed off as it was when I was with the Force?”

“Oh yeah,” said Doyle with a smirk. “But there’s always a way.” He and Finn both burst out laughing. 

Bodie came into the room with his food and a bottle of tomato sauce. He looked uncomfortable in the relaxed atmosphere and hesitated a moment.

“Come and sit down,” said Doyle. “You’re making the place look untidy.”

Just for a moment Bodie’s eyes narrowed. “No thanks,” he said, abruptly. “It’s a bit stuffy in here, I’ll sit on the front steps with mine.”

And, somewhat stiffly, he left them to it. 

Doyle sighed, and put his head back on the sofa. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Although I don’t know why I should have to apologise for him when he’s big enough to do it himself.”

“Because you’re his partner, I suppose.” said Finn. “Now, lad. Don’t worry about it. I’m not.”

Doyle put his half eaten meal on the coffee table in front of him. “Can you tell me what went wrong between the two of you?” he asked, deciding the direct approach was best.

“It’s not that hard a story to tell,” said Finn, abandoning his own meal in favour of a bottle of Bacardi that he pulled down from the shelf. He filled two glasses and added a splash of coke to each, passing one to Doyle. “When he left home, he was in desperate need of a Father figure. I tried to be that for him. My sister had done her best but he was going through a wild time. He was almost impossible to control. He came here, and I tried to keep him on the straight and narrow. Then one day, we had a huge argument, and he was gone.”

“What was the argument over?”

Finn blushed slightly. “I had every reason to believe that Bodie had stolen some money from our local pub.”

“And had he?”

“As it turned out, no. But I didn’t get to the truth until after he’d gone.” 

Doyle turned the crystal glass around in his hands, thoughtfully. He knew Bodie would find it hard to forgive someone who apparently trusted him so little. 

“Mr Doyle?”

Doyle looked up, startled out of his thoughts. “Ray. Please, call me Ray.”

“Ray. I’d like nothing more than to make amends, if you think Bodie will let me.”

Doyle shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Everyone thinks Bodie’s an open book, but he’s actually pretty complicated. I don’t know if he’ll forgive you, and if I ask him to, he’ll just think we’re ganging up on him.” 

“I see.” The sadness was clearly apparent in Finn’s eyes.

“Maybe give him some time?”

“He’s had fifteen years,” Finn reminded him.

“But fifteen years without seeing you. Maybe today will make a difference.” Doyle went on, hoping to make the man feel a little less miserable about the whole thing. “He didn’t have to mention you. We didn’t have to come here. You never know, maybe he’s mellowing.”

“I hope so,” said Finn, draining his glass and reaching again for the Bacardi. “I really hope so.”

********

Doyle left Bodie alone for what seemed to be the right amount of time, then pulled on his jacket before joining his partner on the front step. 

“All right?” he asked, nonchalantly. 

Bodie gave him a sideways look. “You two getting on, are you?”

“He’s seems okay to me,” said Doyle.

Bodie turned to face him. “Yeah? Well maybe you’re not such a good judge of character after all, eh, mate?”

He went to get up but Doyle pulled him back. “Bodie, you must know he’s really sorry about what happened.”

“You know nothing about it, Doyle.”

“I know it’s stupid of you to sulk for fifteen years!”

“He sold me out!” said Bodie, wrenching himself out of his partner’s grip and starting to pace around the small garden. “He had his chance and he didn’t believe me.”

“People make mistakes, Bodie. We all do.” Doyle paused and waited until he had Bodie’s full attention. “Isn’t it time to let it go?”

In response, Bodie pulled his car keys out of his jacket pocket and started walking to the car. “Let’s get our gear. It’s time.”

********

Half an hour later they had finished squirming their way into their wet suits and were trying to tidy away their clothes and belongings so they didn’t leave Finn’s lounge looking like a bomb site.  
Bodie checked his watch against the clock on the mantelpiece, confirming the time of midnight. 

“Are you sure that’s waterproof?”

“Waterproof?! Only to 50 feet, that’s all,” said Bodie, indignantly. 

“Well let’s hope we don’t have to test that out,” said Doyle, zipping up his wetsuit, carefully. He’d had a hair or two caught in the past and now treated the suit with the respect it rightly deserved.  
A final weapons check completed their preparations and they were ready. 

Finn tapped on the door before entering. “All set?” he asked.

Bodie turned away as if to check something important.

“Yes, thanks,” said Doyle. “Hopefully we’ll be back in an hour, but you know there’s no need for you to wait up or anything like that.”

“No need,” agreed Finn. “But I’ll do it anyway.”

Nodding his thanks, Doyle tucked his gun in the inside pocket and went to wait outside. 

As Bodie began to follow him Finn put a hand out to him. “Good luck, son,” he said.  
Despite knowing that he was better than this, Bodie couldn’t help the way he reacted. Without even a look in Finn’s direction he made his way out of the room, pausing in the doorway for a moment. At first Finn thought he was going to look back, but then he heard words muttered almost too quietly to hear.

“I’m not your son.”

*******

As unobtrusively as possible, they swam through the cold, dark water, their strokes hardly causing a ripple in the inky cold depths. They didn’t have very far to swim – the marina lights flickered behind them in the darkness - but it was essential that they gained access to the yacht without being observed. 

Despite the training, they both appreciated the insulation that the wetsuits provided, after all, English waterways were not exactly known for their warmth. Doyle paused, treading water for a moment, judging that they were now only a hundred feet from their target. He nodded at Bodie, and as one they set out on the final leg of their journey, cutting through the water silently. 

Within minutes they reached the side of the yacht. With great care they started to climb the metal access ladder which led up to the deck. They climbed over the side of the ship, aware of how every sound carried through the still night. They pushed themselves against the wall, catching their breath as they tried to establish the whereabouts of the crew. 

They slipped along the passageway like ghosts. Hesitating only for a moment to ensure the starboard cabin was definitely empty, they eased the door open and entered. Then they split up, each knowing exactly what the other would do. Soundlessly, Bodie checked the low cupboards built into the seating unit, while Doyle opened the desk. Cowley had said the photos would be here so they focussed their search on this one room. Doyle moved to the bookcase while Bodie’s attention was caught by a framed picture that was fixed to the wall; an oil painting of an Arabian Sheik posing with his horse. He ran his hand around the frame, fingers gently probing, and as he applied pressure to the left corner he triggered some kind of mechanism. 

“Oi!” he whispered. Doyle immediately came to join him. 

Bodie searched the contents of the safe carefully, ignoring passports, cash and a jewellery case. When he found a plain brown envelope, he removed it and gave it to Doyle. Doyle quickly opened it and checked the contents. “Jackpot,” he whispered, giving Bodie a wink. Doyle unzipped his wetsuit and placed the envelope inside the waterproof pocket hidden in the lining. 

“Let’s get out of here,” muttered Bodie, turning back to the door. With Doyle following close he crept outside, again keeping flat against the wall, and then he moved to the side of the yacht where he swung his leg over to reach for the ladder. He peered down in the darkness trying to find a foothold just as a flicker of something caught his eye and, as he looked up, a huge black shape appeared out of the darkness immediately behind Doyle. 

Balanced precariously, Bodie couldn’t get to his gun without falling in and in the split second it took for him to get himself back on board, Doyle was taken down from behind with one sickening thud. Bodie struggled with the gun he had hidden inside the suit only to find two more crew members emerging from the companionway, one with a gun pointing straight at him. The other pointed his gun at the back of Doyle’s head. Bodie paused, then straightened, raising his hands in resignation.  
Bugger.

********

With a low groan, Doyle moved, instinct telling him to hold his head, but he found he couldn’t move his hands. 

“At last!”

“Wha...?”

“Doyle, are you awake, or not?”

“Erm.....”

Bodie tried pushing backwards with his shoulders. “Come on, mate, wakey wakey.”

Doyle moved his head again, resting it back heavily on what he now realised was the back of Bodie’s right shoulder. “Gimme minute, okay?” he slurred. His head was pounding. What had hit him, an elephant? Fighting a nauseous feeling in his stomach, he slowly opened his eyes. It was pitch black. They must be in a cellar, no, they were on a ship, weren’t they? A boiler room, then?

“Bodie?”

“Yes mate. How are you doing?”

“Where are we?”

“What do you mean ‘where are we’? We’re in a cabin on the yacht.”

Doyle tried to move again, realising that his hands were tied behind his back, as well as being tied to Bodie. 

“Can you reach my pen-knife in my jeans pocket?” he slurred, trying to pull himself together.

Bodie’s forehead creased into a frown. “Not this pocket, sunshine,” he said, quite patiently, “You’re not in your jeans tonight. Remember?”

There was a long pause. 

“Bodie?”

“Yes...” said Bodie, long suffering. 

“Is it really dark in here? I mean pitch black dark.” 

Bodie looked around in the gloom. Light from the passageway was bleeding under the door, giving them enough to see the room quite clearly. “No,” he confirmed. 

There was another long pause. “In that case I think I’m blind,” said Doyle, his voice controlled. 

Bodie twisted, cursing the bonds that tied them together. He needed to look at Doyle to see if he was having him on and was getting frustrated that he couldn’t do so. “Perhaps the blood from the cut on your head is getting in your eyes,” he suggested.

“No,” said Doyle, quietly. “I can’t see a thing. I’m serious, Bodie.”

There was a pause, and then they both started talking at once. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“I think...”

“What?”

“The best thing is not to panic.”

“Right.”

“It’s just the bang on the head.”

“Probably.”

“It’ll be temporary.”

“You reckon?”

“For sure.”

“Right.”

As quickly as they had started talking, they stopped. Sat on the floor back to back, Bodie could feel Doyle’s body shaking. Shock? The cold? Concussion? Shit, it didn’t really matter what was causing it. Bodie fought the constriction of the ropes bound around his wrists, and opened one hand, closing it around as many of Doyle’s fingers as he could get hold of, desperate to offer reassurance. 

“Bodie...?”

Before he could continue the door opened and two men entered followed by a tall, dark man wearing a smart business suit and a Keffiyeh. “Gentlemen, “he said, with a slight bow. “You have taken something from me. You will return it, now, or I will have no choice but to have you thrown you overboard with your hands still tied.”

The CI5 Agents considered their options. 

It didn’t take a genius to work out that there didn’t seem to be any. 

Doyle coughed and Bodie squeezed his fingers in agreement. 

“My inside pocket,” said Doyle, quietly. One of the men approached him, making him jump slightly when he put his hand on the zip of the wetsuit. It was very strange, not being able to see what was coming, not being able to anticipate anything. In a moment the envelope had been retrieved and handed back to its owner. 

“Thank you.” The Arab put the envelope in his pocket and started to leave. 

“What happens now?” asked Bodie.

“Now?” He turned back to them. “Now we untie you before throwing you overboard, of course.” He seemed surprisingly hurt by the insinuation. “I am a man of my word.”

“My partner’s hurt, I don’t know if he can make it back to shore.”

The Arab took a step to the side so he could look at Doyle more clearly. He winced in sympathy as he saw the blood on his face. For a moment Bodie thought things might actually go their way. “Then my suggestion is that you help him,” he said simply, before turning and leaving the room. 

********

The crew members carried Bodie and Doyle efficiently and silently out onto the deck. Bodie tried his best to get them on side. “Look, my mate is hurt. Do us a favour, eh? Let us use the dingy? We’ll bring it back. We’ll give you no trouble.” But the more he tried, the more the crew seemed to completely ignore him. Doyle was silent, still trying to come to terms with his lack of sight, as he was manhandled to the floor and roughly untied. He sat up and tried to feel around him to get his bearings. 

Then, with relief, Bodie was free too and he immediately reached for Doyle, taking hold of him and looking intently into his face. “Ray?” he asked, breathlessly.

Doyle shook his head slightly, his eyes glazed. “Still nothing,” he said, not wanting to give the crew members anything to use against them. 

The largest of the crew members waved a gun at Bodie signalling that it was time to leave, and he knew they weren’t going via the scenic route. 

Bodie got up. “Yeah, okay, I get it,” he said, resignation clear in his voice. “Just let us climb down rather than push us in, okay?” 

None of the men confirmed or refused his request so he helped Doyle to his feet. He took him by the elbow and led him to the metal ladder, helping him to get over the side, making sure he was balanced and holding on. With a little nimble footwork Bodie managed to swing down so that he ended up one rung below Doyle, his arms by-passing Doyle’s waist as he held on to the ladder, securing them both. 

“Okay,” he said, in a clipped voice that was full of concentration. “One step at a time. We move down together.”

In perfect sync they climbed down the ladder until Bodie felt the lapping of the icy water gradually moving up his body. 

“Come on, Ray,” he said, encouragingly. “One more step down. When you get in the water, don’t let go of my shoulders.”

Then they were both in the water. One of the crewmen shone a torch down at them to make sure they were on their way then, abruptly, they were both left in darkness. 

At first Doyle had thought he would be able to swim. After all, you don’t need to use your eyes to be able to swim, do you? But he very quickly realised he did. He had completely lost his sense of balance, his equilibrium, his awareness of the waves that were constantly flicking water in his face. So, trying to bank down the rising panic, he did what he was told and put both hands on Bodie’s shoulders. 

“We can do this,” said Bodie confidently, treading water. 

“Whatever you say,” said Doyle, trying not to tense up.

“You hold on to my shoulders from behind, I lead, and we both kick. We’ll be there in no time.”

Carefully, Bodie turned so that Doyle was grasping his shoulders from behind. They then struck out for the marina. Bodie soon realised his usual front crawl was going to be impossible without dislodging his passenger so he adapted to a strong breast stroke and, with both of them kicking, they made surprisingly good time. 

After a short while Doyle got a little more of his confidence back and started to use one arm as well as his legs. Anything to get them home sooner, he thought. His fingers felt the loop on the back of Bodie’s wetsuit that would normally secure an aqualung, so he thrust his hand through it and moved out a little to swim almost alongside his partner. 

“You’re doing great,” said Bodie, knowing he shouldn’t be amazed at how well his partner was handling things. He always had been good at adapting. 

“It feels really weird,” Doyle replied, getting a mouthful of river as he spoke.

“Don’t think about it,” said Bodie, worried that if he did, they might both turn into gibbering wrecks. “We’ll think about it when we get there, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” agreed Doyle, knowing exactly what Bodie meant. 

Now wasn’t the time to think about it.

********

Someone seemed to be looking down on them that night, because, thankfully, they made land without mishap. While Bodie had the reassurance of the steadily nearing marina lights, Doyle had to rely on Bodie’s constant updates which didn’t extend much beyond, “Nearly there.”

Then their feet hit the slope of the slipway and half way up it they both collapsed, exhausted. Doyle released his hold and lay back on the concrete trying to catch his breath, his legs still dangling in the water.

“Bodie?” he gasped.

“Yeah?” Bodie was having his own problems catching his breath, the sudden relief flooding over him like a tidal wave.

“Describe where we are...I need to know.”

Doyle had always been an incredibly observant person with an eye for every detail, and now he couldn’t rely on that sense. Bodie understood this and started to describe the scene. “It’s not far different from when we left,” he said, looking about. “Still no moon, very dark, no people about. It’s...” he checked his watch, “3am.”

“Can you still see the yacht?”

Bodie scanned the horizon looking for lights. “No,” he confirmed, “I reckon he’s done a runner.”

“Not surprising.”

Bodie stood up and took Doyle by the hand, ready to pull him upright. “Let’s do a runner ourselves, eh?”

Doyle stood up and immediately ran his left hand around Bodie’s body, slipping it back inside the loop on the back of Bodie’s wetsuit. 

Bodie smiled. It hadn’t taken his resourceful partner long to adapt. He just hoped the necessity was going to be short lived. “Right,” he said. “Walk in time with me. It’s not far.”

Barefoot, they walked around the marina then crossed the road to the back lane that led to the mobile home site. Doyle kept the whole left side of his body in contact with Bodie at all times, walking carefully in step with him. Bodie tried to describe the terrain as they went, “Step down from the kerb”, “Mind the puddle”, but he couldn’t avoid everything especially in the pitch dark. 

With a sharp cry, as much from the shock of the unknown as the pain, Doyle stumbled, leaning heavily on Bodie for support. “Stepped on something,” he said, abruptly. 

Doyle manoeuvred so that he could balance with his hands on Bodie’s back, then lifted his foot like a lame colt. Bodie crouched, squinting in the darkness. “It’s hard to see,” he said, “but I think you’ve stood on something.”

“Oh great!” said Doyle. “Brilliant work, Sherlock.” He reached out to touch his foot but Bodie batted his hand away, worried he was going to hurt himself again. 

“Careful, there could be glass. Let’s just get back.” He hitched his arm around Doyle’s waist and took the weight off his foot and they carried on with the short journey. 

After a few minutes a relieved Bodie confirmed, “We’re here.” 

He raised Doyle’s arm and helped him to feel where the caravan was then left him standing beside it while he retrieved the car key from inside the exhaust pipe of the Capri. He unlocked and opened the tailgate then unlocked both doors before leading Doyle round to the back and helping him to sit on the boot edge. 

Bodie let out a huge sigh of relief, and put his hand on Doyle’s shoulder. “Alright?”

Doyle stared straight ahead, emotionless. “Yeah.”

Bodie fumbled in the boot and pulled out a towel which he draped across Doyle’s shoulders, then crouched to take a clearer look at his foot. “This is impossible,” he muttered, “I can’t see a bloody thing.” 

Doyle sat, surprisingly impassive as Bodie touched his foot and pushed past him to get things out of the car. 

Bodie couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through Doyle’s head right now. “Do you want me to help you get changed, then we’ll get you to a hospital?”

Doyle nodded, still staring ahead.

“Ray?”

“Hmmm?”

Bodie put his hand on Doyle’s head near the cut, checking it out. The river water, far from washing it clean, had made it look even more red and angry. A man with concussion this severe shouldn’t have had to do what Doyle had done and he seemed to be fast slipping into shock. 

The lights flickered on inside the caravan then Finn was down the steps and beside them. 

“What happened?”

Bodie didn’t even look up. “He took a smack on the head and now his vision’s gone,” he said, abruptly.

Ignoring his nephew’s gruffness Finn stepped over the low fence that separated his caravan from the next and rapped on the door, hard. A light came on and a petite, buxom blonde appeared at the door, pulling her dressing gown tight around her waist. 

“What’s up, lover?” she asked, her hand on her hip.“Bit late for this malarkey, isn’t it?!”

“Queenie, sorry, love. I need you.”

“Well I know that, Finn...” she simpered, doing her best to look coy and seductive at the same time. 

“No, pet. In your professional capacity.” He gestured towards the two men by the car, and the penny dropped.

“Oh! Hang on, love.”

She ran back inside to collect her first aid bag then stepped lightly down the steps, now wearing pink mules with a pink fur trim. Finn helped her to step over the little white fence.

She gave Doyle a kind smile then assessed his injuries quickly. “This is really bad,” she said, looking closely at his head wound. “He needs to go to hospital. Finn, ring for an ambulance, love.” She pressed a clean dressing to the deep cut then knelt to remove the piece of glass she found in his foot.

Finn started to go inside to make the phone call but Bodie stopped him. “No,” he said, firmly. “I can get him there faster and I can call for help on the way.”

Finn put a hand on Bodie’s shoulder. “Son, I don’t think...”

“I don’t care what you think, and I’m not your son! Come on, Ray.” Bodie slipped an arm around his partner’s waist and helped him up, wondering in the back of his mind how he had managed to sound like a petulant teenager. 

He led Doyle around to the passenger seat, helping him to get in and sit down, then grabbed a towel from the back seat and wrapped it close around him before slamming the tailgate shut and getting in the driver’s side. 

Finn and Queenie stood watching, worry etched onto their faces, but he didn’t acknowledge them. 

He started the engine and dipped the throttle, and was just about to drive away when Doyle stopped him by suddenly sitting upright and waving his hand vaguely in the air. 

“Bodie?” His voice was thick with sheer panic. 

“It’s alright, Ray, I’m right here.” He put his hand on Doyle’s knee. “We’re going to the hospital now. Just sit back and try to relax.”

“Right.” Doyle clutched at the towel around his shoulders, shivering.

Bodie put the car heater on full blast and drove off, faster yet more carefully than at any other time in his entire life. 

********

People seem to do a lot of waiting in hospitals. Waiting for Doctors, waiting for X-rays, waiting for news. And that night if felt to Bodie as if he had been waiting for ever. Even the flash of their ID cards didn’t speed things up that much and it was only when George Cowley strode down the corridor at the crack of dawn, loudly demanding news on his agents, that people started to take notice. Murphy followed in his wake, observing how fast people moved when they saw him coming. 

“Well, where is he?” Cowley demanded, gruffly. He was his usual smart self, freshly shaven and wearing a grey suit and blue shirt and tie. Bodie wondered if the CI5 Controller ever actually slept.

“He’s seeing the Consultant now,” said Bodie, rubbing his eyes, tiredly. He looked up from where he was sitting and gave Murphy a lame grin. 

“Consultant for what?”

“They’ve already stitched his head up. This is to check his sight.”

Cowley narrowed his eyes, annoyance flashing across his face. If this injury proved permanent he’d just lost his top team. 

“Good God, man,” he exclaimed. “Couldn’t you both have been a little more careful? It was a simple enough op. How did it go so wrong?”

Bodie stiffened in his chair, his eyes half closing and his mouth settling into a pout. “Yes, Sir,” he said, shortly, “Sorry, Sir.” 

Murphy didn’t like to interfere but as he checked Bodie over he noticed the wet suit he was still wearing and the little pool of water that had gathered around the chair legs. “How are you?” he asked, concerned. 

“Fine.” Bodie glowered across at his boss for a moment, then stretched his legs out and arched his back. “Just knackered, you know.”

At that moment a nurse opened the door to the Consulting Room and peered out at the men waiting there. “Mr Bodie?”

Bodie pulled himself to his feet, “Yes?”

“The Consultant feels you should come in now.”

She had probably meant just Bodie in her invitation but the three men moved as one. The room was in darkness from where the Doctor had been using the equipment to test Doyle’s vision but as they entered the room and stood tentatively to one side, the nurse switched the bright overhead light on. 

“Now, Mr Doyle,” said the Consultant. “Your colleague is here as requested. Perhaps you’ll listen to him.”

“Bodie?” 

“Yes, mate,” said Bodie, trying to sound cheerful. “How’s things?”

“They said my sight will come back but I have to stay here. I’ve told them that’s not going to happen.”

Bodie raised an eyebrow. “I see,” he said, slowly. “And why’s that then?”

“If my sight is going to come back by itself then I can be at home, can’t I?” Doyle said, talking vaguely to the space in front of him. “And if I stay here while I can’t see, anything could happen.”

Cowley coughed slightly, realising Doyle didn’t know he was there. 

“Well who was that then?” said Doyle, confusion on his face. 

“It’s me, laddie. Mr Cowley.”

“And Murph,” said Murphy, moving forward to put his hand on Doyle’s shoulder. It was quickly pushed away.

“You see! I don’t even know who’s in the room with me!” Doyle ran his hand through his hair, wincing when he caught the dressing that had been placed over the cut. 

“It’s okay Ray,” said Bodie, moving past Murphy to get to his partner’s side so he could reassure him. “Calm down a bit, eh?”

“Doctor,” said Cowley, producing his ID for inspection. “There is a risk to my agent while he is kept here for treatment. I would have to station a guard on his door. Is there any possibility he can be released?”

Bodie raised his eyes to the ceiling, pretty much convinced that it was the cost of the guard that was running through Cowley’s mind and not Doyle’s welfare. 

The Doctor thought things through for a moment. “Well,” he said. “We are waiting for Mr Doyle’s sight to come back of its own accord. There’s nothing we can do to speed up the process. We could release him with painkillers and instructions to return if there is any change. As long as he was closely supervised.”

Bodie turned to Cowley, not wanting to voice the request on his lips but praying his boss would do the right thing. 

Eventually, put under pressure by the silent, slightly mournful stare, Cowley relented. 

“Take him home, Bodie,” he said, secretly wondering what would have happened if he had said no. 

Standing as close as he was, Murphy couldn’t tell whether the sigh of relief had come from Bodie, or Doyle. 

6.2 couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face.

*******

Smoothly, Bodie pulled up at the side of the road outside Doyle’s flat and turned the engine off. 

Doyle had been staring straight ahead for the last mile as if listening to every tiny sound. 

“We’re here, Ray,” he said, quietly. 

“Bodie...I, erm, I don’t feel right.”

“It’ll be okay when we get inside, you’ll see,” said Bodie, giving his partner a reassuring pat on the knee that only succeeded in making him jump out of his skin. “Sorry. Look, wait there, okay, I’ll come round and get you.”

Pocketing the keys, Bodie ran around the back of the Capri and opened the passenger door and, with a firm hand on Doyle’s elbow, helped him out of the car. With a cry Doyle suddenly stumbled and curled in on himself, almost falling off the kerb into the gutter. Bodie grasped hold of him, trying to keep him upright. 

“What is it, Ray?” he asked, trying to see how he could have injured himself. 

Doyle leaned forward and buried his head in Bodie’s chest, hiding his eyes from the world. “My head!” he tried to explain, his heart thumping so hard Bodie could feel it as he pressed against him. “Oh Christ, that hurts!”

“Shit, okay, let’s get you back to hospital.”

“Wait! Wait just a minute, Bodie. Just...wait.”

Bodie held on, worrying about how long he was meant to wait for. Doyle obviously needed immediate medical treatment. Then, slowly, Doyle moved his head up, his eyes squeezed shut. Bodie watched as Doyle tried to open his eyes a fraction, then he gasped and shut them tight again. 

“What?”

“I can see light, so bright it hurts,” Doyle said. “Can we get inside?”

Bodie manoeuvred them inside as quickly as possible, depositing his traumatised partner on the sofa before closing all the curtains. 

He walked across to the sideboard and picked up the phone receiver.

“What are you doing?” asked Doyle.

“Phoning the hospital.”

“Wait, will you please?” Doyle sounded so desperate that, once again, Bodie found himself not doing what his head was telling him to do. Instead he put down the phone and sat down next to his partner. 

“The Doctor said to bring you back in if there’s any change.”

“Stop...rushing me,” said Doyle, reaching out for Bodie’s arm and gripping hold of it tight. In the enforced dark of the room Doyle slowly opened his eyes, letting just a slither of light in at first, and then widening them to a definite squint. 

Bodie looked hard at his partner, trying to assess any change, and then gradually became aware that he was being looked back at. 

“Ray? Can you see me?”

Doyle gulped, and nodded, opening his eyes a tiny bit more. “Yeah,” he breathed. 

“Well, thank Christ for that.”

Doyle’s smile was shaky, but at least it had finally returned. 

********

Bodie slammed his door behind him, trying to get his jacket on at the same time as eating a piece of toast. He jogged down the steps and got into the passenger seat of the gold Capri waiting for him.  
“You’re a bit keen, aren’t you mate?” 

Doyle gunned the throttle and sped away from the kerb, causing Bodie to nearly choke on his toast.  
“We’ve got to get there, haven’t we? You’re the one who booked the rooms, hot and cold running barmaids who live on the premises. If we get there too late we’ll miss out on first course.”

“Right, but you’re going the wrong way.”

“I’m driving,” said Doyle, smugly. 

It was his first drive since being passed A1 fit. 

Bodie let him pick his own route. 

*******

“What’s this then?” Suspicious eyes looked at the bottle of clear liquid that had appeared on the table. Bodie had been expecting his partner. Bodie had been expecting more pints. The evening hadn’t even started yet, they hadn’t even begun their joint assault on the barmaids. 

A nervous cough. “A peace offering?”

Bodie looked up to see Doyle looking slightly sheepish with Finn standing right behind him. He shook his head. “Oh no,” and started to rise from his seat before being firmly pushed back into it. 

“Bodie, hear him out.”

“Why should I?”

“Bodie.” The note of warning in Doyle’s voice was clear. 

As Finn started, inevitably, to turn away, Bodie’s hand seemed to move on its own volition. He grasped hold of the man’s arm and held him there.

Their eyes locked.

Doyle held his breath. 

Time stood still for a moment. 

Then Finn began to talk. “I’m...”

“Don’t.”

“I...”

“There’s no need.”

“But...” 

Doyle began to wonder if Finn was ever going to be allowed to finish a sentence. 

“We don’t need to talk about it,” said Bodie, firmly.

Finn relaxed slightly. “Not if you think it’s best.”

“It’s best.”

Sounds broke through the silence surrounding the table. Tinkling laughter, clinking glasses, Ghost Town by The Specials and the rumble of pool balls falling as money was pushed in the slot.

With a peaceful sigh Bodie relaxed his grip, first on Finn’s arm and then on the past.


End file.
